


Blur

by days4daisy



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, MayThe4th Treat, Movie: Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, Reunions, Temporary Blindness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-09 22:09:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10422873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/pseuds/days4daisy
Summary: Han doesn’t need his eyesight to know something is different about the kid.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The_Plaid_Slytherin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/gifts).



Han doesn’t need his eyesight to know something is different about the kid.

His vision has improved somewhat, as Leia promised it would. Instead of space-black, he sees a dirt-mass of shadows. Appropriate for the dungeon in Jabba’s old palace. What a dump.

The space Luke occupies is darker than the rest, a hollow gap between rock and rust. “This part of your master plan?” Han grumbles.

“Yes.” Of course. Han’s grin is wry as he slumps against a wall. Somewhere on the other side of their cell, Chewie huffs. Han can’t tell if the Wookiee’s skepticism is for Luke or him.

Luke Skywalker: Jedi Knight? It's crazy! The Jedi are extinct! Even if they weren't, it’s got to take more than a few weeks for a kid to become a pro, doesn’t it?

It’s like Han woke up in a different universe. All the rules have changed. Hell, Han can’t even see up from down anymore! Now, he's supposed to buy that a death order from Jabba is a good thing? Why, because Luke is some hot shot Jedi now?

What happened to haggling deals over drinks in Mos Eisley? What happened to the days when Han’s biggest concern was outrunning Jabba’s goons and getting paid at the end of it?

“What happened to you?” Han demands.

A long pause follows, cold and impregnable. Han shouldn't have to see the kid to get what's in his head. They've been through life and death together! Everything is different now. Han feels lost, and he doesn't have his eyes to help him find his way back. He bumps his head gently on the cell wall in frustration.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Luke says.

It’s not the words that bug Han, it’s the sentiment. Apologetic, like Han is beneath him all of a sudden. “Maybe I want to understand!” he barks. “What, I’m out a few days and you get to keep me in the dark?” Ironic, given his current condition.

“It was more than a few days, Han.” Something changes in Luke's voice. His energy is gone, words sluggish and defeated.

“I know,” Han grumbles, although he has no way of knowing what they've all been through.

How long was Han out of commission? A few days? A few weeks? The hibernation sickness still aches inside him. Every now and then, Han shudders without cause, clasping arms around himself like if he doesn't he'll turn to dust.

“Look, I appreciate you trying to bust me out," he says. "But I wanted everyone safe, all right? You shouldn't be tangled up in all this.”

A growl rumbles from the opposite end of the cell. Han rolls his sightless eyes. “I don’t _care_ if you tried to talk them out of it. You’re here too, aren’t you?” Another grunt, this one sour. Han snorts. “Me, help you if the tables were turned? Fat chance, pal.” Never mind that Han has already bailed Chewie out more than once in their lives. Or twice. Or five times. He ignores the bitter chuckle from the shadows.

Their cell stinks of mud and mold. Han blinks futilely into the darkness. Nothing changes; his vision is just a smear of grays. “Maybe I want to understand,” he repeats.

“Han.”

“What’s the point of you being here if you won't talk to me?" he mutters. "You should’ve let me n’ Chewie muscle our way out. I’m sure you’ve got more important stuff to deal with.”

Luke sighs like an old man at the end of his life.

Han hears a shifting of fabric and limbs. Boots dust over dirt-stained floors. Seconds later, a hand drapes over Han's. A gloved hand. Han cups it between his, leather under his fingers. It doesn’t feel warm. Might be the glove, but…

Han squeezes his hand. It doesn’t give. Frowning, Han peels the glove off. The skin underneath is like ice. Is it even skin?

Han laces his fingers with Luke’s. They twitch like a real hand's might. It's a perfect imitation. But it isn't real. “Aw hell,” Han mumbles. He traces Luke’s sleeve to a panel screwed under his forearm. Organic tissue covers the bolts. Han gets all the way to the elbow before he feels the mechanism give way to warmth. The nub of Luke’s elbow is coarse and familiar.

“Vader?” Han asks. Luke doesn’t need to answer. Han already knows, and his blood is boiling. “I’ll kill him,” he grumbles. Or die trying, a more realistic scenario. Hey, they’re all going to die anyway.

Luke sighs again, heavy in the space between them. Han waits for him to speak. But Luke hesitates, and Han’s stomach drops. What else is he not saying? Is the rest of him intact? Did the kid lose something else, some _one_ else? Han squints, but it does no good. Luke is a blur.

“Vader, he’s…” Luke trails off. “I can’t, Han. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s all right.” Han doesn't know what to do with this new closed-off version of the kid. But this is honesty, even if it's painful. Han feels a little more sure of himself. He squeezes Luke’s repaired hand in a way he hopes is reassuring. “Just don’t keep secrets 'cause you think I can’t handle them. Tell me when you’re ready, ok?”

“Yeah, sure.” Luke’s free hand, his real hand, covers Han’s knee. “How are the eyes doing?”

“Crummy,” Han mutters. “Might get better when we're out in the light. Guess that's one good thing about the sarlacc. It’ll be warm.”

“You’re not going to die, Han,” Luke assures him. “None of us are.”

“You’re awful confident, kid. They teach you that at Jedi camp?”

“Not quite,” Luke replies. Han can tell he’s smiling.

***

Well, they’re alive somehow. They’re alive, and Luke is leaving again.

But not yet. Right now, Luke is on the edge of Han’s med cot. The light is brighter in this back corner of the Falcon. Han was right about light helping his eyes. His vision has improved significantly since being under the twin suns of Tatooine. The world has become a ripple of warm splotches. He can see outlines of things. The pale of Luke’s skin, the gold of his hair, the black clothes he wears. Luke's details remain a haze, but his form is here. It's better than nothing.

“What the hell do you need in the Dagobah system?” Han wonders. He raises a hand before Luke can answer. “Jedi business. Got it.”

“How are your eyes, Han?”

Han blinks at the space he can sort-of make out Luke in. “How do they look?”

A pause, and a tilt of that sandy head. “More like you,” Luke decides. “But not good to drive.”

Han snorts. “Lando’s gonna be a pain when I’m up and running. He's always been fond of the Falcon.”

Luke breathes a laugh. “He’ll be all right.”

“Yeah,” Han agrees. “He’s all right.”

It isn’t like him to forgive this fast. This whole Jedi code thing must be contagious.

He reaches for Luke's false hand. Their fingers wind together, Han worrying a lip. “You’re gonna come back after Dagobah, aren’t you, kid?”

Another pause. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Han isn’t sure, just has a feeling. “I can’t see you from all the way up there,” he says. “Get closer.”

“You can sit up,” Luke reminds him.

Han grins, head pillowed on an arm. “Don’t be like that,” he protests. “I can’t even see!”

“Yeah, now you use that.” But Luke bends for him.

The proximity doesn't help Han's eyes, but he can feel Luke's closeness. His exhales tease across Han's skin. Han is reminded of better days, laughing and embracing in close quarters. Simple kisses and smirks. Back when Han could gently rib the kid for blushing. Same kid who saved the whole damn galaxy from annihilation.

Han lifts a hand. He finds Luke's face and stretches fingers to frame his cheek. A sigh answers the gesture, and a disapproving, “Han.”

Han’s hand continues into his hair. It's long enough now to ball a fist in.

Luke’s mouth touches his. Han sighs under his kiss. “You saved my life, you know,” he murmurs.

“Yeah, I know.” Luke sounds a little more like the kid Han remembers. There's affection in his voice as fingers rest on his chest.

“Well then, you know I owe you.”

Luke smiles against his lips. “Let's say we're even, huh?”

“I don’t think so. I’m good on my favors, kid.” Han traces fingers down Luke's forehead to his cheeks. His face has lost its youth, thinner under his touch. Luke's mouth, though, is still warm and soft. It purses gently against the inside of Han's palm.

Luke's black tunic forms a V over his collarbone. Han scrapes fingers across the front of his shirt. The body under Luke's clothes is harder than he remembers. “Han,” Luke murmurs, giving Han pause.

“I gotta see you somehow, don’t I?” he grumbles. “Especially if you’re off on some fool mission to a swamp.”

“There’s someone I need to see.” The weary tone again.

Han scowls. “Must be nice to see people.”

Silence follows, and Han regrets the words. Sure, this Jedi business is nonsense, but the kid is doing the best he can. Han knows that. And hell, who knows what stupid mission Luke is off to in the Dagobah System. If this is the last time Han is around him for awhile, he’d rather this not be the send off.

“Fine.” Han lowers his hand with a sigh. “Hope you find what you’re after, kid. I mean it.”

“Me too.” Luke accepts the unspoken apology with a kiss. “Thanks, Han.”

“Yeah, sure. Be care-” His voice tightens in surprise when Luke’s mouth dips to his neck. A kiss presses to the flat of his throat. Luke nuzzles the underside of Han’s chin. “Mmm.” Han's head drops back, indulging in the hair tickling his neck. Lips touch his collarbone. “Hey, hey.” Hands push Han's vest off his shoulders. His shirt follows.

Luke’s hands flatten on Han's stomach, mouth tracing his chest. His breaths are hot. From Han’s vantage, all he sees is that sandy head bent over the blur of his own body. “What’s- _oh_ ,” Luke’s mouth curls around one of his nipples. Han hisses when he bites it, has the kid ever done that before? A hand wanders to the waist of Han's slacks, unbuttoning them with a pinch of his fingers.

Han sits up enough to steal a kiss. Luke doesn't stay long, mouth straying down his ribs. Han braces hands on his shoulders, a hissed “Jeez-” when his pants are pulled down. “Hey, where you going?” His voice dies when he’s urged from his underwear.

“You’re right.” Luke voice is warm, as is the gentle hand wound around Han’s cock.

“Usually am,” Han stumbles, trying to save face. “What’m I right about now?”

“It _is_ nice to see you.”

“You…” The world is a candle melting to Han's recovering eyes. He doesn't see Luke descend, doesn't know what's happening until Luke's mouth embraces the head of his cock. Han hisses, gripping the cot to keep from thrusting forward. The last thing he needs is to choke a freshly minted Jedi Knight.

“Luke, you don’t have to…” Han trails off again. Luke ignores him, swallowing more of Han down. He urges Han's thighs apart.

Han didn’t know Luke knew how to do this! He’s used to being on the other end: taking the kid into his mouth, enjoying stammered endearments and the weight on his tongue. Han wonders if this was part of Luke's Jedi training too.

Luke urges him deeper. Han startles off the cot. “Damn it, kid, I can't see! Warn a guy, will ya?"

He _feels_ Luke's smile curled around him. “All right, Han,” Luke says. He lowers his head again, as if he didn’t agree to anything.

Han blinks up at the lights. He needs to see this! All he gets is a haze of shifting tones. Han feels more sensitive than usual under Luke's mouth and hands. Every touch is like the first time. 

Han's fingers drift lower; Luke's face feels warm. Han pictures his blush and his mouth open in a lazy hoop. Eyes closed, probably. Or maybe Luke is looking right up at Han. Gaze fixed on him while his mouth drags down his cock.

“Come here,” Han rasps.

Luke's tongue flicks Han's shaft; doesn't help his composure. “You’re not done yet,” Luke points out.

It’s so matter-of-fact, Han can’t help his strained laugh. “Don’t care, come here.”

He hears Luke snort seconds before the cot shifts. Luke's weight is easy pressure against his side. Han sits up to meet him, not sure where to go exactly. He hears Luke breathing. The sound gets him close enough. A near-miss; Han kisses the space right beside his lips. He corrects himself with a tilted head. Heightened senses without his eyesight. Han wonders if this is what the Force is like.

Another snort from Luke, as if he’s in his head. Maybe he can do that now. Force help him if he can. Han cups his chin between a thumb and forefinger. When Luke’s hand winds around Han's shaft, he hums his approval. “I- ah!” Squeezed pressure. Han's thumb scrapes Luke’s jaw. “I missed you.”

“I know,” Luke says, smiling. “And you owe me one.”

“I'll owe you more than one at this rate…” As much as Han misses Luke's mouth, this is better. Han can respond without concern, waist jutting into Luke's fist. Han is able to kiss him at will. Feel him. Hear him.

Han offers his own touch, hands down the front of Luke’s clothes. Luke shies away, and he stops immediately. Han doesn’t get it. He doesn’t have to, not right now. Kid's business, not his.

Han's body is all heat, heart drumming in his chest. He curls hands in Luke’s clothes, just to hold him. Luke seems ok with the compromise. His false hand hooks on Han’s side. The real one, warm and patient, tightens between his legs. "Getting pretty good at this kid," Han murmurs. “You practicing without me?” He tries to keep his voice steady. Good feelings turn even better.

Luke answers with lips nuzzled to his jaw. Han hisses in reply. His stomach clenches, and his back arches.

“I was waiting for you,” Luke says. It’s something only the kid can manage without sounding like a total sap. And truth is, Han still doesn't know how long Luke waiting. How long was Han frozen in carbonite? Did Luke ever think they wouldn't get him back?

“I know… damn it, I know…” They’ve both been waiting too long. It’s the excuse Han uses when his body betrays him.

Luke takes his orgasm like it’s easy, a lazy build of strokes and the right grip to string him out. Han gasps out a sound he’d rather not make. All he can do is hope the kid is too good to call him on it later. If there is a later.

Han kisses Luke as he winds down, unsteady but insistent. Luke smiles under his mouth. Something about the gesture puts him at ease.

“They teach you this in Jedi camp too?” Han sounds a little winded, and _a lot_ off his game. Luke has that effect on people. On him, anyway.

“I won’t be gone long,” Luke promises. Han can't check his eyes for lies. Shadow-spots dance where Luke's gaze should be.

“I’ll hold you to that, kid,” Han warns.

Luke’s repaired hand rests on his stomach. “You better,” he says.

*The End*


End file.
